


a moment of domesticity (and when you know you're too far in to back out now)

by bookme1flight



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Excessive Sap - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Sex, not explicit at all don't worry, these two will kill me one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:01:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookme1flight/pseuds/bookme1flight
Summary: on a quiet, late afternoon, hanzo thinks of what (and who) he loves most.





	a moment of domesticity (and when you know you're too far in to back out now)

There were times when, deep into his writings, Jesse McCree would forget where he was. Or the time as it passed him by. All anything was was him and the page. And a few other things as well. The click of the keys as he typed, an open window filtering in fresh ocean air, steam wafting from the mug next to him and adding to the gentle breeze the sweet aroma of cinnamon and honey from his tea. The sun truly completed the ambiance, halfway set behind the sea and casting golden light into the room. On he wrote, pausing occasionally to ponder new paths for the plot, at times scrapping a half-typed page and inserting another sheet into the ages-old typewriter. He would stand and stretch at times, mind needing a quick break. Pacing about the small kitchen area, head tilted to the ceiling and hands wrapped around his warm mug, he’d mumble to the ceiling for a bit until he sat back down and continued. 

At this hour, Hanzo could, with near solid conviction, say he loved Jesse most.

There were many other moments when he said the same thing. Such as the times Jesse would return from a completed mission, worn and a bit frayed around the edges, but alive, with a broad smile and warm embrace as soon as they saw each other. Or when the members of the new Overwatch, vibrant and lively, would sit around the table for a rare dinner together; Jesse would step from the kitchen, a large pan of divine smelling food in his hands, and serve the rest of the team before sitting next to Hanzo and taking his hand beneath the table. 

Most special were the moments when it was just them. Either during training sessions in the late night hour, firing away in a calming rhythm, or in the comfort of one of their rooms. The latter was Hanzo’s favorite, because that was when he could really admire his lover. It was in those moments where the archer always learned new things about the cowboy as they laid side-by-side on the mattress. Like how he’d never seen the ocean before he joined Blackwatch, how he wished there was a balcony outside of his window so he could see the stars at night. 

How getting back home to Hanzo was the driving force behind staying alive on a mission.

On some nights, when neither man could break free from his demons, Hanzo, with his hands that deserved nothing of what Jesse gave, would map out every scar, every line, every inch of his partner’s skin. The cowboy would do so in turn and, oh, was he ever gentle. Helpless to his ministrations, Hanzo knew he would want for no one more than he wanted Jesse McCree. 

For now, he was content to watch from the doorway, leaning against it and nursing his own cup. Jesse had not seen him yet, nor did Hanzo expect to be regarded for some time. He knew better than to distract his partner, certainly not during the peak of his writing hour. When Jesse seemed to hit another plothole, he cleared his throat quietly, startling the man. Backlit by the now orange sun, he was wrapped in a halo of its light. Hanzo caught his breath before it could rush out of him. Surely, he was something heavenly, brought down to absolve him of his countless sins…

Hanzo came back to reality when Jesse called his name.

“I was going to tell you that dinner was ready down the hall, but you seemed busy.” He smiled when Jesse flushed, a telltale sign he was realizing that he was wrapped up in his little typed world. He regained himself, beckoning Hanzo closer and pressing his forehead against the archer’s middle once he made it to the table. Hanzo wrapped his arms around Jesse’s shoulder’s, tracing little patterns. He reached down with one hand, tilting Jesse’s chin up so their eyes could meet. This way, he could see the flecks of gold in Jesse’s right eye and the fragments of red in his left. He could see the freckles dotting the expanse of his cheeks, some reaching up to his hairline. He could see the thin scar through his soft lips and the charming crook in his nose.

“You are breathtaking.” Hanzo mumbled, unaware he was saying it aloud. The cowboy’s breath stuttered and he coughed, taking off his glasses and chuckling. “You sure know how to flatter a man.” he said quietly. 

If Hanzo looked back, he could not recall hearing a more perfect voice than that which belonged the man below him. It was just the right timbre, just the right amount of gentleness and gruff. Jesse again brought him back to the now with a gentle tug that had him bent at the waist and locked in a kiss. 

He nearly forgot; this was his favorite part.

Jesse McCree kissed with the same level of care as one might hold a ancient artifact or priceless work of art. Yes, there were times when he could be reckless, rushing forward like a desert storm, taking and taking and taking until Hanzo could do nothing but hold on. This, however, was bliss. Salvation. His lips were an altar and here Hanzo could repent. 

They parted, a bit breathless. Jesse finally stood and took Hanzo’s face in his hands, and if Hanzo had a scrap of the vanity he once had, he would have assumed it was out of reverence. He could not begin to understand why a man like Jesse, with years of selfless action under his belt, would ever find any part of Hanzo worthy of his gaze.

“Reckon they’re waiting on us.” Jesse whispered, breath ghosting against Hanzo’s ear as he leaned in to kiss behind it. 

Despite the sentiment, Jesse did not protest when Hanzo surged forward, the kiss in stark contrast to the lazy ebb and flow he had initiated earlier. The archer could not help himself; they never knew if this would survive long. Never knew if the parting embraces before one of them stepped onto a transport would be their last or if their differences would become too much to bear. But …

“We still have time.” Hanzo whispered when they separated once more, partly aware that Jesse would not know what he meant. The cowboy chuckled, looking back out at the ocean before he spoke.

“We’ll always have time, honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> you made it ! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading my (gasp) first work of fiction ! 
> 
> alright, it isn't my first, but it is my first time posting my writing on a fanfiction platform. i do not write regularly; as a matter of fact, i'm an artist. but almost as i love drawing these two old lovers, i found that writing about them is plenty enjoyable too. so i figured i would share !
> 
> leave kudos if you'd like ! i would also love some thoughts on how well (or terribly) the fic read, so feel free to comment too!


End file.
